


two-faced

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Introspection, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Rebel Jail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Sana might hate her and she, she might be unhappy with Sana in turn, but Sana didn’t deserve to become a loose wire in the force field that protected Aphra—and Sana—from blackmail and exploitation, all the nasty things Imps did to one another to climb another rung of the ladder Aphra found far less interesting now that she was stuck somewhere on it.*She sneered and scoffed and shook her head, hair brushing back and forth over her neck. “I think I’d rather talk about Aphra.”I don’t miss her, Sana thought, willing herself to believe it.





	two-faced

Hissing, Aphra pressed at her midsection, the deep ache of a not-yet formed bruise throbbing at the touch, delicate though it may have been. Sana’s kicks always had been on the intense side. Usually Aphra wasn’t a target, but she would have been lying if she were to say she’d never been one.

“Master Aphra,” a voice said. 0-0-0’s, of course. The cadence was bright, tripping, almost gleeful. The moment she’d stepped back on board her own ship, he’d hovered, a murderous mother lothcat shuffling after her. She wasn’t surprised to know he’d followed her to the medstation, too. “Will you be in need of retributory assistance?”

“What?” Aphra peered up at him, noted the malevolent spark in his ocular sensors. “Retribu—? No, of course not!”

“But you were harmed,” he answered, utterly reasonable and utterly, utterly wrong at the same time. “That demands recompense, does it not?”

Rebels. Sana was with the _Rebels_. Sana, who steered so far clear of anything approaching authority and honorable behavior that she’d spent years clawing her way up in the seedy underbellies of the galaxy just to get her own ship. All simply because she and trust didn’t have a good history with one another. If she’d made even one friend—besides Aphra—before that...

But now she was palling around the galaxy with Leia Organa?

What did that even mean?

“No, Triple Zero.” She stared at him, adopted what she knew was one of her more intimidating looks, and dared to stab at his chest plate with her index finger. “This is between me and—” She almost said Sana’s name, but honestly. The less he knew about her, the better. The less anyone in the Empire knew about her, the better.

Sana might hate her and she, she might be unhappy with Sana in turn, but Sana didn’t deserve to become a loose wire in the force field that protected Aphra—and Sana—from blackmail and exploitation, all the nasty things Imps did to one another to climb another rung of the ladder Aphra found far less interesting now that she was stuck somewhere on it.

What did Sana think of that, she wondered. Would she disdain Aphra for this, too? Tally it up as another failure? Because who would be stupid enough to get them caught up in Darth Vader’s orbit? And who would have the gall to like it? Because some days? She did. He gave her interesting problems to solve and mostly left her alone. She could’ve done without the implicit threats, but even those weren’t so bad.

Sana wouldn’t have gotten that, though.

But now Sana was a rebel.

Aphra’d always harbored… well, dreams mostly. Of reconciling. With Sana. Once they’d filed off their own rough edges anyway. Once they fit again, smoother, fewer chances to spark, still a little dangerous, but on the whole...

Right. They could’ve been right together.

Now Aphra wasn’t so sure about that.

And she didn’t know how to change it.

*

Sana stared out the viewport of the _Falcon_ , her crossed leg tapping at the copilot’s controls. There wasn’t anything to see. The ship was docked and what few members of the flight crew were on deck were busy doing maintenance on Rebel X-wings. The occasional spark arced through the air, thrown off by the heat of a welder being applied to metal, but even that wasn’t exactly interesting to see.

Better that than the alternative, though. _What in the hell are you doing here, Starros? This isn’t your fight. You’re not one of them_.

And yet, she’d gone along with Leia’s schemes, hadn’t she? She’d let Han sucker her into this mess to begin with. She’d kicked Aphra out of an airlock instead of hauling her off and—

_Whoa. Whoa, none of that_.

She heard the kick and scrape of boots approaching and knew from long acquaintance that it was Han, probably summoned by her invocation of him. “Get out of this cockpit,” she said, waving her hand over the back of the chair at him. “I came for a bit of peace and quiet. You’re neither.”

“You’re getting mud on my dash,” Han replied, somehow cool and cordial all at once. He dropped into the pilot’s seat and spun the chair just enough to look at her. “Chewie’s not gonna like that.”

“Chewie won’t say anything.” But Han wasn’t wrong. She dropped her feet to the floor and gestured at herself. “Happy?”

Han crooked a smile at her. “Never, sweetheart,” he said, a hint of acid in the supposed endearment. Nothing that would burn, but it still stung. There used to be someone else who called her those kind of names and meant it. “But that’s never stopped me from tryin’ anyway.” He coughed into his fist. “So. Aphra, huh?”

“Han,” she said, warning. Everything about hearing that name out of his mouth got her hackles up, sent molten, angry fire through her. “Don’t.”

He lifted his hands and shrugged, eyes closing and eyebrows doing that weird raise they did when he got knowing about something. It was annoying. And more than that…

“You don’t want to keep going down this line of thought,” she added. Just for good measure. “Not unless you want to talk about the princess some, too.”

And though it was a warning and a threat, Han didn’t heed it, stretching in his seat and lacing his fingers behind his head for good measure. But that was Han. Going for glory as always, even when the prize was dubious. Then he got lost for a minute in what must’ve been the sappiest thought of all time if his goofy face was anything to go by. “We can talk about her if you want.”

She sneered and scoffed and shook her head, hair brushing back and forth over her neck. “I think I’d rather talk about Aphra.”

_I don’t miss her_ , Sana thought, willing herself to believe it.

It didn’t work.

And she wasn’t surprised.


End file.
